He Gets It From You!
by Drakena the Destroyer
Summary: Raising a four-year-old mutant is a difficult task, even more difficult when he has bad habits from both of his parents. Mystique, Azazel and Kurt AU story.


**Title**: He Gets It From You!

**Category**: X-Men: First Class

**Characters**: Mystique, Azazel and Little Kurt

**Genre**: Family/Humor

**Rating**: K+ for suggestive themes

**Disclaimer**: Characters are all copyright Marvel Comics.

**Author's Note**: Okay, I admit that I was inspired by all of the fan art and stories featuring the family of mutants. This would be a storyline if Mystique and Azazel decided to raise little Kurt together. I thought that it would be funny if Kurt, as a child, picked up some naughty habits from both of his parents. Azazel's Russian might seem a bit off since I had to look up a few Russian lesson sites to get the words I intended to use.

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><p>Mystique was in the kitchen of the Brotherhood headquarters, it was her turn to wash the dishes. After she had rinsed the dishes, she would set them in the plastic tray to dry off by air. Over the sound of running water and the clink of the dishes, the blue skinned shape-shifter did not even hear the soft puffing sound near the tray. She had already placed the plates on the tray and she was about to place the glasses in the tray when she noticed something wrong. One of the plates on the tray was missing.<p>

There was a soft puff of blue smoke near the white-washed ceiling, Mystique yelped and jumped away just as the missing plate came crashing down to the tiled floor. Another puff of blue smoke appeared near the tray, perched on the counter like a gargoyle, tiny three digit hands grabbing another plate, long blue tail swishing happily, four-year-old Kurt giggled before teleporting off with the plate he grabbed.

"Kurt!" Mystique cried out as her son teleported off the counter. Kurt was a mutant child Mystique conceived from an affair she had with another member of the Brotherhood. Even though Mystique and Kurt's father never intended to produce a child, they decided to keep Kurt when they considered the possibility that they could teach him to fight alongside the Brotherhood when he got old enough. At the age of four, Kurt was already demonstrating abilities similar to his father's and Mystique at the moment could not decide if she should be proud or very annoyed.

Mystique searched around the kitchen for her child. Kurt reappeared again, above the kitchen table, the blue boy seemed to be floating before he released the plate and teleported away, letting the plate fall and shatter on the table. The mutant child reappeared again near the tray to get another plate. Mystique reached for her son to stop him, but Kurt disappeared before she could. A third plate fell with a crash next to the fridge, and Kurt reappeared with a giggle then disappeared again before Mystique could catch him.

There was something about Kurt's behaviour that was ghastly familiar. Mystique remembered years ago that she had seen CIA men die from being dropped in a similar manner as the plates, those men died from being dropped by Kurt's father.

Furious at the boy for such behaviour, but even more furious at the boy's father, Mystique used the whistle that Emma Frost taught to her whenever Kurt's father had to be summoned. In a puff of red smoke, Azazel appeared next to Mystique, causing her to jump like Kurt's plate dropping stunt. Azazel certainly showed that he was Kurt's father, pointed ears partly hidden by his thick coal black hair, long whipping tail with a sharp spade on the end, and the ability to teleport. The only gifts Mystique passed to her child were her blue skin and illuminating yellow eyes.

"You summoned me, _da_?" asked Azazel, his Russian accent thick and rich.

"Yes," replied Mystique. "Seconds ago, _your_ son was dropping dishes by teleporting near the ceiling and releasing them." She sharpened her tone on the word "your" toward Azazel to get some sense into him. "Just look at the mess he made." She waved at the shattered plates.

"Why should that concern me?" asked Azazel, seeming to be unbothered by Mystique's distress. His red face was calm.

"He teleports, you teleport, and the way he was dropping those plates was all too similar to what you did at the CIA!" Mystique was doing her best to control her anger at Azazel.

"Did what at the CIA?" Azazel tilted his head and stared at her in an odd way with his pale eyes. It might have been silly and cute when he stared at her that way when they were training or having a casual conversation, but it really infuriated her at the moment.

"Those men you dropped to their deaths years ago! Kurt was doing the same thing with the dinner plates! He gets it from you!" Mystique jabbed a blue finger at Azazel's black clad chest, she wanted him to know that she was furious with Kurt's behaviour and the source of where he got it.

"Calm down," said Azazel, holding up his red hands in surrender. "Kurt did not know any better, I will tell him not to do it again." In a flash of red smoke, Azazel left to find his son, Mystique was alone in the kitchen.

Taking in a few deep breaths to calm down, Mystique realized that Azazel was right, Kurt was only four and did not know any better. At least the only damage done happened to the dinner plates. The damage could have been worse if either she or Kurt had gotten hurt, but neither of them were, which was a relief. If Azazel successfully told Kurt not to do it again, then Mystique hoped that Kurt learned his lesson and would not do such a reckless thing again. Grabbing a broom and dustpan, the blue shape-shifter cleaned up the shattered plates.

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><p>A few days after the incident with Kurt and the dinner plates, Azazel sat down in the large arm chair in the lounge. The red-skinned teleporter had recently returned from a rough mission and he just wanted to relax with a book. With his coat draped over the back of the chair, the reading lamp spreading warm light from the side table, and a book open in his hands, Azazel began reading to get the stress of his mission off his mind. As he turned the page, there was a puff of blue smoke and Kurt appeared right on Azazel's lap, staring with wide yellow eyes and a wide grin.<p>

"Papa!" Kurt cried out with delight.

Nearly dropping his book, Azazel was surprised by his four-year-old son's sudden appearance. Yet, he was proud that his son had taken after him and was eager to use his ability to teleport. Azazel had done his own fair share at surprising people by suddenly appearing in a burst of smoke. When the surprise and smoke faded, Azazel noticed something about his son, Kurt was completely naked.

"Kurt, where are your clothes?" Azazel asked sternly.

"I don't want to wear clothes, Papa," the blue boy answered, "they're hot and they rub my fuzz all wrong!" Kurt had a thin layer of blue fuzz, or fur, over his blue skin, Azazel wasn't sure if it was Kurt's own uniqueness or probably body hair like his own.

"You'll catch cold without them." Azazel set his book on the side table and gently placed his hands on Kurt's narrow bare shoulders. "If they rub against your _fuzz_ all wrong, it is because you need time to get used to having your fuzz rubbed by clothing." He was doing his best to be reassuring, but Azazel didn't have issues with body hair being rubbed by his clothing until he reached his teens when his body hair became more coarse.

"I don't want to get used to my fuzz being rubbed!" Kurt had a pout cross his face. "Mama doesn't have to wear clothing, I want to go without clothing too!" Azazel knew that Mystique preferred her natural skin instead of being covered up, but Mystique's scales kept herself decent in the presence of others, Kurt did not have the same luxury with his fuzz.

"You are being silly," said Azazel, reaching for his coat. "Let me wrap this on you and we'll get you dressed." As he was about wrap his coat over Kurt, the boy teleported away and reappeared near the door to the garden.

"I'll never wear clothing!" Kurt had his arms crossed as he glared at his father.

"Kurt," Azazel said as he stood up from his chair, "this is ridiculous. Come here."

His son shook his head and teleported away. Azazel knew that Kurt could not get far with teleportation yet, so Azazel decided to teleport himself where he guessed Kurt might have gone, into the garden. Passing through the haze of smoke and fire, Azazel made it out in the garden, still holding his coat. His guess was correct, Kurt quickly scrambled up a tree in the center of the garden, with the special grip on his hands and feet. It was spring time, the plants were blooming and the weather was fairly warm, so Azazel did not have to worry about Kurt catching a cold.

"I've had enough of this," said Azazel irritably. He wanted to relax, but he could not when his son was running and teleporting around without decent covering.

"No clothing, it's not fair that I have to wear it!" Kurt whined from his perch in the tree.

"You have by the time I count to _tri_ to come back down here and stop this nonsense." Azazel held up one hand to extend the fingers he counted. "_Odin_," one finger, "_dva_" two fingers, "_tr_-."

"There you are," said Mystique's voice from the doorway, interrupting Azazel's count. "I was wondering where Kurt went to when I didn't see him in his room." Azazel spun around to see the naked blue shape-shifter.

"_Tvoya syn_," said Azazel in Russian before shifting to accented English, "claims that he does not need to be dressed." He pointed to where Kurt was sitting in the tree. "He gets it from you!" He could no longer hide his anger and frowned.

"Really?" Mystique arched an eye ridge at the Azazel and shifted her yellow gaze to Kurt. "That's actually funny!" She giggled at her son sitting naked as herself in the tree.

"Mama," said Kurt, "please tell Papa that I don't need clothes."

"Let me talk to him," Mystique calmly said to Azazel. She walked by Azazel and spoke to Kurt at the base of the tree. Azazel kept his distance knowing that Mystique could talk sense into Kurt without any help. Soon Kurt teleported out of the tree and into Mystique's waiting arms, then they met with Azazel at the door.

"How?" asked Azazel as he draped his coat over his naked son in Mystique's arms.

"Mama said that I should wear clothes for same reason you do," said Kurt.

"I said that it was to hide his tail," Mystique said with a wink.

"Tail?" Azazel stared at his own tail and his son's, both long with sharp tips and could easily be used as weapons in a fight, no reason to hide them unless they needed to go out in disguise among humans.

"Not that tail," said Mystique, chuckling.

"Ah," Azazel arched his brow as he understood what Mystique meant. Kurt was still too young to know the difference between a boy's anatomy and a girl's, but Mystique figured out a way to get Kurt to understand the importance of keeping himself decent by using a more child-friendly term.

Kurt did inherit gifts and bad habits from both Mystique and Azazel, which would take time to learn control over. The parents were fond of their child and they were intent on teaching him everything they could offer to him.

_The End._


End file.
